IN THE EVENING [fifth daughter]
Jessica and her friend Charlotte watch a horror
movie involving a young couple on vacation and
inter-galactic toxic porcupine spikes. The girl
is cute, the boy a young tousle-haired,
bespectacled forestry expert without a job, who
reminds me of Jaenelle's boyfriend. No doubt he
becomes the hero of the piece. I do not wait up
to find out.

Quiet coffee with Jaenelle at Eton. The first
proof of The War Between the Generals has
a slightly skewed cover. We are waiting for the
second proof.

March
23, 2010 (Tuesday)Windsor
(England)

Once we have the bookstore Irvingbooks.com
up and running [it
was destroyed by enemy action on November
13], and we can take credit cards
again, we can do the foreign tours when Jaenelle
returns in mid May, I think. -- More global
smears about me and the horrific Dresden
deathroll figure in the international press, who
mindlessly mimick eachother's reporting; they
make no attempt to contact me, and there seems
to be no vehicle available to answer back. The
enemy are too well organised.

As an historian I shall just keep on
ploughing my furrow (or plowing as Jaenelle
would write), keeping it as straight as I
can.

March
24, 2010 (Wednesday)Windsor
(England)

Jaenelle
(left) is on her high horse
again. . . Lew Regenstein has
written:

Did
you mention in your book that the Bomber
Command raids on Peenemünde killed some
people, perhaps slave workers, who were
supplying vital intel on the rocket program?
Whoever they were, the info stopped coming
after the attacks.

I reply:

Yes,
the raid killed 700 workers; R. V.
Jones [wartime chief of Air
Scientific Intelligence] told me his
information stopped coming, but in retrospect
I realise these "super agents" were usually
cover stories for codebreaking
sources.

George Becker informs us of the outcome of
today's trial in Chicago of the Edelweiss gang
who attacked us -- let off with slaps on the
wrist.

I
was at court today as a witness, the five who
were caught received one year probation and
five to ten days' county sheriff work program
and one received four days in jail. Since all
had [pleaded guilty to] disorderly
conduct misdemeanor charges it was the best
the prosecution could get.

March
25, 2010 (Thursday)Windsor
(England)

The mail contains a letter from Ernst
Zündel now a free man again, in the
Black Forest (his phone number does not however
work); and a shocking handwritten letter from
our wealthy friend Karl Munter, no less,
reading:

Dear
David, I will be dead by the time you receive
this letter. I felt that I have lived long
enough. I wish you all the best for years to
come and much happiness to your
daughters.

Before his name is a 1.5 inch long squiggle
which could be an attempt to sign, or a
signature.

In what is clearly a different handwriting is
scrawled across the bottom of the page,
diagonally, and using a different pen:
"Intercepted By Police! DO NOT
CONTACT AGAIN."

I discuss this odd letter for a few minutes
with Jaenelle. It is not K's usual paper size. I
am very upset by this, and -- as an Internet
search reveals no grim news about K.M. -- I
write at once to a friend in California:

I
believe we both benefited in the past from a
Melbourne benefactor, K.M. Do not mention his
name. Today I received the shocking enclosed
letter from him. . . Have you also
heard from him? He phoned me last about a
week or ten days ago and . . . Some
months ago he wrote me a lengthy letter: his
... and it had taken him a month to get free.

You
can guess where my suspicions lie right now.
The handwriting across the bottom is
different from K's -- and I strongly doubt it
is the police. I proposed asking an
Australian solicitor to visit his address at
once to find out what has happened and to
prevent foul play. I'd like to hear from you
first.

W. replies:

[We]
have spoken by phone a number of times over
the years. So after getting your message, I
tried to phone him again. When I first tried
to reach him, I got a busy signal. Then I
phoned again about twenty minutes ago. There
was no answer, except a recorded message,
which seems to be the same one he's had in
the past. I left a brief message.

Like
you, I don't believe that the handwriting at
the bottom of his message is by a police
agent. I suspect that it's by his
son.

I
am not surprised that K.M. might want to take
his life. He's quite elderly, and strife with
his son must certainly be a burden. But I
doubt that he is dead. If he were no longer
alive, I would expect that at least that his
recorded telephone message would be removed
or changed.

I respond to W.: "I take it that he did not
yet write to you, then? When I phone him he
always waits until he hears my voice
. . .
and then speaks to
me. . .
I too suspect his evil son. It is a serious
matter, in many ways, but one to be handled with
great delicacy."

AT 2:14 p.m. a Brighton police official phones,
concerned about our Saturday meeting.

I take Jaenelle to supper at the Watermans to
celebrate getting the credit card system running
again. . .
But for the time being we shall keep
mum. . .
The four-month logjam is at last broken. I leave
Jaenelle poring over different bookstore
templates, and we jointly choose one that seems
to meet our needs. I accept that my own
bookstore, comforting and functional though it
was, was not what modern Internet shoppers
expect to find; and trust is everything.

In the evening a long chat with Jaenelle, who
regales me with stories ... tries to tease but I
am unteasable.

All
five showed up. Their lawyer had filed an
appearance half an hour before court opened.
The lawyer wanted the case continued [for
a third time], because he said he needed
more time to familiarize himself with the
case. The judge refused a continuance and
told the lawyer to read up on the case within
a half an hour. In the meantime other cases
were heard.

The
state's attorney said she was ready for
trial. The police officers who handled the
investigation were there to testify and we
had three witnesses present: Paul Thomas, who
could identify one of the boys, because his
mask had slipped. William Bodin, who had been
able to write down the license plate number
of one of the get away cars. With this
information the police were able to arrest
the five later that evening.

George
Becker, a guest at the restaurant, who was
not connected with your group, who could have
identified a terrorist girl if she had been
apprehended. The judge decided to first have
a conference with the state's attorney and
the defendents' lawyer. It was decided that
they would plead guilty to the misdemeanor
with which they were charged. In the end the
boys were sentenced to the following. Jason
Hammond and Nathan Hill -- both were given 10
days of some sort of manual labor, $200 fine
plus court costs (approximately $350); Adam
Santos -- one year supervision; Brandon
Stepien five days manual labor, and a $200
fine plus court costs; Jeremy Hammond -- four
days jail (because he was on probation and
had a record).

I reckon the traditional enemy will pay their
hirelings; the criminal records will not help
them through life.

I start work on test-images for an English
language edition of my book The Morgenthau
Plan, which has several hundred pages of
facsimile documents, including the notorious
Morgenthau Plan itself -- which would have
killed off six million Germans post-1945, and
was partly implemented in the Allied directive
JCS 1067.

Unfortunately Wieland Soyka still has
my original documents after twenty years, and
scans of the images produce a systematic 0.5
degree rotation. It can be readily corrected in
Photoshop, but is unsatisfactory for technical
reasons.

AT 11:30 a.m. we drive down to Brighton for this
afternoon's meeting. I am to talk about the new
facts about History that can be learned from
unimpeachable sources like the decoded Nazi
documents. A light drizzle begins as we arrive,
and friends carry the stuff down into the big
basement of the Hanbury Arms at 83 St. George's
Road, behind the seafront Bristol. The
meeting room is a spacious salon which was
once the mausoleum of Sir Albert Sassoon and his
family and the ceiling a glass dome of
suitably subdued and deathly hues.

The bar owner is very co-operative, and so
are the police -- because as they warned us a
few days ago two vanloads of the enemy's hired
scum shortly arrive, summoning more on foot by
mobile phones as soon as they confirm I am
inside.

This kind of thing will not cease until I
finally curl my toes skywards, I suspect: it is
the only way the traditional enemy knows of
debating -- lies, violence, intimidation,
bribery and, one fears too, the knife. I suppose
it is not possible to mail out five hundred
invitations without having one or two worms on
the list -- to call them moles would be too
flattering, and a real insult to those
pests.

Back in Windsor, I resume my incidental
labour of revenge, which is now augmented by
The Morgenthau Plan reissue. The truth
about the traditional enemies of free speech --
more insidious than the V-1, more deadly than
the V-2. We need funds to put all these titles
back in print, but my friends around the world
are rallying round.